


Read You Like An Open Book

by notchason



Series: One-shots [Hamilton] [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bookworm Thomas Jefferson, Cutesy, Gay Thomas Jefferson, Lafayette loves his makeup, M/M, Oneshot, Plot Twists, Thomas is friends with old ladies that are librarians, What Have I Done, there will be a short sequel for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notchason/pseuds/notchason
Summary: Based off of the tumblr prompt 'I found your number in a book and called you'. Though I did butcher it,a little. The main point is still there tho.There was this feeling Thomas felt whenever he saw them talking like they’ve been best buds for years, and not barely even 4 weeks. Soon enough Thomas identified this feeling to be jealousy, nothing else. And he will most definitely not feel any guilt whatsoever because of it. Things that were rightfully his were now taken over by this guy. Today, for example, Martha hadn’t even said hi, for she was talking withguess who.





	Read You Like An Open Book

**Author's Note:**

> *Disclaimer: None of the books mentioned are my work, though I read them all and thought they were good enough to be mentioned lol

Thomas has always been one for fantasy novels. It was fairly simple to explain why - he thought of them as an escape with a little bit of adventure. It completely differed with the flawed world he lived in. 

He has practically become a regular in his local library. The old lady librarian, Mrs. Martha Washington, loved him. She was always extra nice to him, always allowed him to keep a book for a little longer than it’s due to return, or recommended him things she knew he loved. They would often chat about how’s it going in life. For instance, they both owned cats and they often talked about them, laughing at how much mess they can make yet they still love them. Martha sometimes talked about her husband George. They were both on the older side, but George was still relentless, making excuses to just  _ do  _ things (“I’ll go plant the tulips now”, “Calm down George, it’s not even the season yet!”, “I know my dear, but the sooner the better, yes?”). Martha was also the first person Thomas has come out to as gay, which Martha wholeheartedly accepted (“Sweetie, if I can love you knowing that you didn’t like The Great Gatsby, I assure you  _ this  _ won’t change a thing.”)

So yeah, it’s safe to say that library is his territory.

Or rather  _ was  _ his territory…

...until a certain pretentious Caribbean bastard moved to New York.

This kid, man.

This kid came into the library almost every day now since it was summer breaks. And it was not exactly a problem, per se, when somebody new suddenly comes here and borrows a few books. Quite the contrary, Thomas likes new people. But this one walked in as if he owned the place, had Martha wrapped around his little finger in a matter of moments. Martha often described him as _ charming and polite and kind and really Tommy, if you’d only given him a chance _ , she would often say. Thomas found it funny at first, how easily wooed she could be but found it annoying that perhaps he was being replaced. Deep down, common sense knew that it was not true, but it was kind of hard walking in and having to stand by and wait for minutes until the kid and Martha finished whatever they talked about. Sometimes Thomas would get close enough to them to overhear tiny bits of information. (“Did you watch the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race?”, “I have to admit I haven’t gotten around doing it.”)

There was this feeling he felt whenever he saw them talking like they’ve been best buds for years, and not barely even 4 weeks. Soon enough Thomas identified this feeling to be jealousy, nothing else. And he will most definitely not feel any guilt whatsoever because of it. Things that were rightfully his were now taken over by this guy. Today, for example, Martha hadn’t even said hi, for she was talking with  _ guess who _ . 

And on top of all of that, the fucker didn’t even have a good taste in books. He was constantly (or at least, when not talking to Martha at the reception) somewhere in the crime novels department. Even though he caught him reading some classics like The Green Mile or The Woman In White - hell, even The Nine Tailors - Thomas still cannot fathom crime novels. Why would anyone like reading about people murdering one another in all kinds of sick and twisted ways? He is 89.3% sure that somewhere deep down in a crime writer lies a serial killer. 

Therefore he is completely caught off guard one day when he walks in, doesn’t see the guy. He grins to himself, greets Martha and casually strides in his favorite isle, the one with all J.R.R Tolkien books or Neil Gaiman. However, something suddenly rushes past him, a small man with his hair in a bun that Thomas identified as The Guy. He shrugs the questioning away,  _ because not today, Satan, _ although he vaguely wonders why had he been in the fantasy section and why did he race out like that. He didn’t bother too much, maybe he just wanted to explore the realm of  _ real literature _ . 

Much like today, a new delivery of books came; sure, some of those were just new editions of preexisting ones, but there were also three new stories. The first one Thomas grabbed off the shelf was an orange-and-white one by the name of “Wolf of the Plains”. While he’d never heard of it, by the looks of it and reviews on the back page, it was the very least decent. So he opened it on a random page and started turning, waiting for some phrase, or a sentence, to catch his eye. 

And something did, as the matter of fact. A small, folded piece of paper. Not something you’d quite expect in a new book, therefore he was prepared to toss it out, classifying it as thrash. But as he held it in his hand, he noticed something written in ink on it. A few hurriedly scribbled words in a crude handwriting, saying, “How’s it going?”

And if that wasn’t the most random and wild thing that has ever happened to Thomas ( _ at least in the library _ , he thought absently. Although himself, James and Aaron swore not to mention that ‘event’ at all). He placed it back in the book, even though he had spent the entire day wondering what was the meaning of it. Was it an accident? Surely, because nobody else had touched the book before, seeing as it was still in the box in which it came in.

Only about 5 minutes before the end of Martha’s shift did he say, “Hey, can you give me a piece of paper and a pen?”, she looked at him with warm eyes, the usual, but with a knowing grin, if Thomas has ever seen one. She handed him what he asked and then went back to the book. “I’m fine.” he wrote on the said paper and tucked it in the book, on the same page where the one he found was. He bid Martha goodbye and left the library altogether, for the day.

:: ::

 

It’s been two days since Thomas was last there. He walked in with a spring in his step, ready to chose something and spend the entire afternoon reading it (and  _ yes _ , he did have friends.  _ A  _ friend. But James was visiting his folks in Virginia and won’t be home for at least a week).

Martha wasn’t there today, and Thomas started to worry for a moment. He approached the girl behind the counter, a young and pretty face. Her skin was softly brown, her hair naturally wavy and a tad darker than her skin. She looked at him with doe eyes, smiling softly. “How may I help you, Sir?” she asked.

“This may seem odd - whatever - where’s Mrs. Washington?”

“Oh! She called in sick today, I think it was a headache”, she said sweetly.

“Ah, I see,” he felt a need to clarify, “I was just asking because - because she put a book aside for me?” Well done, Thomas. It sounded more like a question rather than a clarification. He was never particularly good at lying.

“I can give it to you, if you want -"

“No, no, that won’t be necess-”

“Hey, Peggy!”, a familiar voice called behind them. Thomas mentally cussed to himself, pairing the voice with the person in his head.

“Hey Millie!”,  _ Peggy  _ said, “long time no see.”

 “Indeed. And I told you not to call me that.” He deadpanned. 

“Whatever.”

Thomas begun to feel like a third wheel again, and slowly distanced himself from the two that started to have a conversation about two people he didn’t know. He picked up the names ‘Angelica’ and ‘Eliza’. Thomas remembered he went to highschool with some Angelica girl. She moved away when they were sophomores, never really heard much from her. 

He walks down the isle with new books, wanting to explore everything else he didn’t get to yesterday. He passes the ‘historical’ shelf, and then stops. He starts to wonder whether he got a response since yesterday. Probably not. He still didn’t quite know what to think about it, was it an accident or no. 

He looks for the very same book from yesterday (which turned out to be quite a difficult task, more so than expected). He let out a small ‘Ha!’ of satisfaction when finally he saw three small papers stuck between the pages 68 and 69 - the first one, his, and a response. 

Gingerly he took it out and unfolded it with his fingers. “How nice. So do you come here often?”

That escalated quickly. Honestly, whoever wrote this and made effort to find out ( **_find out??_ ** ) Thomas’ favourite books, favourite authors and genres,, then made a precise decision of which book to put it in, one that Thomas would surely grab and quickly skim through,  _ must  _ have known that he comes here often. So with that in mind, he took out a post-it paper and pen from his pocket (yes, he came prepared. Sue him) and wrote down - “I think you know the answer to that, since you did all the research required to determine which book to put the note in, in the first place.”

With a victorious grin on his face, he went on about his day. He decided to actually read this book now. It was very interesting, about Mongolian tribes. He got sucked in pretty quickly in the storyline, practically sinking in the leather armchair in the corner of the room as the time went by.

:: ::

 

“My, my, you did get me there. So anyways, penny for your thoughts?”

Another day, another note. Thomas was dwelling whether to continue this nonsense or not, but fairly quickly decided on the former. “Hm, now why would I share that? I don’t even know your name.”

:: ::

 

“Name’s Alexander. Do you feel better now?”

Thomas didn’t respond immediately. He was in a particularly bad mood today, drowsy even. He was sitting in the leather armchair. Martha was back, so decidedly that was a good thing. They went back on talking today, Martha complaining how determined George was that she let him work in their garden. He was 60 years old, for Christ sakes, and he shouldn’t be doing this much. Although she did lure him inside the house with a cup of warm fig tea. He did complain a little, but only half-heartedly. It made Thomas laugh a little, so that was a good thing.  

“Anything interesting happened today?”, she asked him, and he said no. She looked at him, confused, of all things. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

And that made  _ Thomas  _ confused. Did she know something he didn’t? Surely not, she was absent for a whole day, and nothing new has happened. They finished talking and then Thomas went home. He considered responding but decided he was not in a mood today. If the unknown person wants to be in contact with him, they could wait. Or even a better idea - they could actually talk to him, and not just lurk in the shadows or something.

 

:: :: 

 “No response? You wound me.”

“It’s not that I don’t wanna talk, this whole thing is just a little weird.”

There. Thomas wrote exactly what was on his mind, and that made him feel more confident. He didn’t read today, really, just sat around and thought about life until Peggy’s shift ended and Martha came. They started talking very easily, getting on the topic of World War Two, because Martha has just read Child 44, and said it was good. Not exactly fantasy, but also not a crime novel, and that Thomas might like it. They suddenly heard loud noises and laughs, and four men walked in - among them was The Guy, also known as...uh, Millie? Whatever, it wasn’t important. They were obnoxious, and Martha has had enough and then silenced him. The look on Millie’s face was a small victory for Thomas, as he snickered in their direction. Like a child, yes, and Martha rolled her eyes. He subtly observed them. One man was dark skinned and round-ish, with short hair and bandana wrapped around his forehead. A little odd. Other was about the same height and body type as himself, though his hair was up in a ponytail. He wore mascara and lipgloss, and Thomas is not gonna lie, it looked fabulous on him. He maybe even had metallic-blue nails, but Thomas could also be seeing things - regardless, he’s not sure what it was. The last one has slightly lighter skin riddled with a galaxy worth of freckles. His eyes are vibrant green, unlike the other men’s. He looked younger than them, and talks and acts more child like. He has long hair as well, tied in a ponytail. As they talked, he realized that the guy that looked somewhat like him had a strong french accent, which was in some manner of hot in his book.

:: ::

 

“Weird? Hm, and here I am, having fun.”

“Fun? For all I know, you could be a stalker or a zombie.” Thomas wrote but then grinned to himself, writing down on the bottom of the paper. “But then again, to become a zombie you’d need to be attacked by one and Zombies only go for brains.” And he would know that, because he loves post-apocalyptic genres.

:: ::

 

“Ouch. I met some pricks in my time, but you, my friend, are a damn cactus.”

“Oh I’m sorry I hurt your feelings when I implied you’re stupid. I honestly thought you already knew.” and for the good measure, Thomas added “;)”

He brought some coffee in today, and actually went to work on a report they got in legal studies class from Mr. Lee. The guy was an ass, giving them homework while they were supposed to be having fun. They had to write an essay about flaws in constitution. And as a broke college student that severed all ties with his well standing family, Thomas couldn’t afford a laptop (well technically he could but then he’d have to starve for a month) and the only option was working in the library - at least Millie wasn’t in today. Or he came before noon, though Thomas didn’t care about that. 

To his surprise, the French Guy came in alone today. He sat himself next to Thomas and went to work on something, probably a report of sorts as well. Thomas sometimes glanced over, seeing that the guy worked for literature class. He was typing really fast, having a lot on his mind obviously. When French Guy saw the occasional glances, he smiled, saying, “How’s it going?”

Thomas blushed for some reason, thank god it didn’t show as much due to the concentrated melanin in his skin, and said, “Fine, fine. I assume you’re working on-”

“-book report, yes.” he finished, grinning widely. He seemed friendly.

“What book?”

“Gulliver’s Travels.”

“Oh, I love that one. Um, need any help?”

“Actually, yes! That’d be wonderful. What’s your name?”

“Thomas. Thomas Jefferson.” He said.

“ Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette - at your service!”, and seeing Thomas’ bewildered expression, the Frenchman added, “but call me Gilbert, or Lafayette.”

“Okay, Gilbert. What’d you need help with?”

:: ::

 

In short, they did get a substantial amount done, both Thomas and Lafayette, but moreover they talked, about themselves, slowly getting to know one another. When Gilbert began talking about his friends, he mentioned four of them, the ones that came in the library with him the other day. 

“Yeah! Their names are Hercules, John, and Alexander -”

The color drained from Thomas’ face by the mention of that name. “Which one of them is Alexander?”, he asked, vivid picture of the note that said “Name’s Alexander. Do you feel better now?”, before his eyes. It couldn’t be.

“The  _ wee  _ tall one, brown hair, bright skin?”, Gilbert held his hand next to his shoulder, gesturing how short the man - The Guy - Millie -  _ Alexander  _ \- was. And it seemed surreal. The guy that stole his spotlight had been leaving notes for him for days, even weeks now, the notes Thomas grew so fond of had been… from  _ him _ ? Not that Thomas was disappointed, moreover he was surprised for it was a shocking revelation. 

 

“Thomas?” Lafayette snapped his fingers in front of Thomas’ face to catch his attention. Thomas gave him a half assed apology as to why exactly has he fallen in some kind of trance, but Gilbert seemed happy with it. They did exchange numbers, and then both of them left. 

:: ::

 

“(541) 754-3010”

Thomas was at first confused when he looked at the seemingly random numbers, but then realised that it were digits of a phone number.  _ Alexander’s  _ phone number. Alexander gave him his phone number. Alexander wanted to talk to him. The last two weeks, with the notes, plot twists, unexpected revelations and now  _ this  _ \- they have been wild, to put it that way, a true rollercoaster of events. He added the number immediately to his contacts, and dwelled on dialing it. He decided that he’d rather text at first.

> **To: Alexander Millie:** Hi? This is Thomas.
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Hey Thomas. How nice you got my message.
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie:** It was hardly a message, an attempt at flirting I’d say.
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** So this blew my cover, didn’t it?
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie:**  I’d imagine so. 
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** So anyways, Thomas, would you like to get a drink sometime?

Thomas should play smart. At last, Alexander didn’t know that Thomas knew who he really was so… he could have a little fun.

> **To: Alexander Millie:** Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t even know who you are, or what do you look like. For all I know, you could be a 40 year old catfish called Bob that lives in his mother’s basement and feeds stray cats.
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Good point. Weirdly specific, but good point nonetheless.
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie:** What are you gonna do I about it?
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Send a selfie I guess?
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie:** I’m waiting.
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** _User send a photo areyouhappynow.png_
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie:** Hm nice.
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Thanks.
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie:** What’s your name?
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Thought you already knew.
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie** : Full name.
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Alexander Hamilton.

That’s..hm, okay. He was sure Peggy called him Millie once. But then again, hadn’t he said that she’s not to call him that? He had to ask.

> **To: Alexander Millie:** Sorry, but didn’t Peggy call you Millie that one time? I thought that was your last name.
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Nah
> 
> **Alexander Millie:** Long story short, when my cousin tried to pronounce my last name (he was 3)  he said something like ‘Ham-ham-millie’ and now pretty much everybody I know has called me Millie at some point in their lives.
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie:** Aw that’s cute.  

Thomas contemplated changing Alexander’s contact name to Alexander Hamilton, but decided against it. With a story behind it, it seemed almost humorous.

> **Alexander Millie:** So what about that drink?
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie** : Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t drink.

It was true… he didn’t drink  _ alcohol _ .

> **Alexander Millie:** You know what I’m talking about, jackass. Anyways, coffee then? Or something?
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie** : I am very tempted to say yes, Millie.
> 
> **Alexander Millie** : -___-
> 
> **Alexander Millie** : So will that be ‘yes’?

Now it was Thomas’ turn to play a game. Sure he will go, he is actually interested in what’s Alexander like. He seemed quick witted and funny, but also impatient and overly confident, and it was a perfect opportunity for Thomas to play hard-to-get, if he’s ever seen one.

> **To: Alexander Millie:** I’ll let you know eventually.
> 
> **To: Alexander Millie** : Night, stranger.

 

:: ::

 

Thomas walked into the library with three books under his arm as he typed something on his phone. He was about to be a little disappointed when he saw that Alexander didn’t respond, but then heard a loud shout. Or more like a pterodactyl screech.

 

“Thomas!” he heard rapid foot stomping, Martha yelling ‘slow down, son!’ before a very small person crashed into him, knocking them both on the ground. Both of them, and the books Thomas carried, fell with a loud thud.

_ “What the fuck?!” _ , it was his turn to screech. The small man, Alexander he realised, was straddling his hips as he landed, his forearms planted firmly next to Thomas’ head. His head was so close their noses were almost touching. It was quite a predicament, he realised. Alexander had blush creeping onto his cheeks. Thomas himself felt hot with embarrassment as, what seemed to be every person in the library, watched them. Some scoffed, some laughed and snickered, others were shocked. When he came to his senses, Alexander got up quickly and dusted his clothes off, awkwardly looked around before offering Thomas a hand and pulling him up to his feet. 

“Thanks,” Thomas said through gritted teeth, frowning. 

“‘M sorry, I got a little er - carried away. Literally.”

“I can see that.” Everybody went back to what they were doing before this massive debacle, which was quite a relief. “So what was the point of sprinting towards me like that?”

“Well you never said if you decided to go out or not.” Alexander clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged, tentatively meeting his eyes.

“ _ That _ ? You seriously disturbed the whole library for  _ that _ ? I bet they could even hear it in children’s department next door!” he said, “I don’t even know you and you already annoy me to hell. But yes, to answer your question, I will go out.”

“What can I say, I’m impulsive.” he smirked and  _ there we go again _ , with the cockiness. His mildly apologetic state lasted but 3 whole seconds before he put that shit-eating grin on again.

“That’s great, isn’t it.” Thomas said, not really accusatory as he would usually, more like something dismissive, if anything.

“Wanna go now?”

“Wha- I’m not dressed properly-”, Thomas started and it was true - he wore only a black tank top and a pair of grey sweats.

 “Dude, for one, we’re now going in some fancy restaurant, we’re going ouk for a drink. And honestly, your face makes up for it”, Alexander interrupted Thomas. Thomas nodded dumbly and turned towards door, followed by Alexander, on their way to a local cafe called Teddy’s.

:: :: 

 

“-and we talked a lot. He’s a pretty funny guy,” Thomas said to Martha, the librarian’s full attention directed at him. 

“Thomas, honey, can I ask you something?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Do you have any idea what’s actually going on?”

“Uh, no?” Thomas winced.  _ Please don’t be a prank _ , “should I?”

“Then you’re dumber than you look”, she eyed him, “Alexander and I have known each other before. He was one of George’s assistants before George retired. We were both relieved when he came in, was surprised to see me here. And as we talked, he mentioned he likes you. He would talk about you all the time. ‘Have you seen his legs, Martha? Have you seen how fucking ripped he is under that tank, Martha?’ - quote unquote. So what I did is suggest the idea of ‘notes’. I helped him chose the book and the page, and everything.” and she added, “and when I asked you that day if there’s anything new, I was truly hurt that you didn’t tell me you had a ‘secret admirer’!”

“Damn, I’m sorry.” he said, making puppy dog eyes at the old lady.

“Don’t be, honey.” she smiled and pinched his cheek. At that moment, Alexander walked in with a broad smile on his face as he sauntered towards the two of them. He greeted Martha and winked at Thomas, who was still half-sitting on the reception desk. He stood close to him, one hand on the other’s tight. Thomas blushed, glanced at Martha who turned to the computer on her spinning chair, dismissing them with, “You go have fun, kids.”

Alexander pressed a quick kiss on Thomas’ lips, lightly cupping his cheek before pulling Thomas up by the hand and walking out of the library.


End file.
